


The End of the World (As We Know It)

by Sohotthateveryonedied



Series: Voltron Hospital AU [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Blood and Injury, Bombs, Keith & Shiro (Voltron) are Adoptive Siblings, Keith makes dangerous decisions, M/M, Minor Hunk/Shay (Voltron), What else is new, also I think there's trans!Keith in this too, also klance because I'm trash, based off a Grey's Anatomy episode but with way more voltron, it's okay i took a lot of creative freedom so a whole lot is changed to better fit the fic, that wasn't even intentional it just kinda happened, this is lowkey a Grey's Anatomy au, why am i posting this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 10:13:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15265266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sohotthateveryonedied/pseuds/Sohotthateveryonedied
Summary: It’s a look patients get in their eyes.There is a scent. The smell of death.Some kind of sixth sense.When the great beyond is headed for you, you feel it coming.What’s the one thing you’ve always dreamed of doing before you die?(Or the Voltron hospital AU no one asked for but I delivered on anyway.)





	1. The End of the World

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off an AU I came up with months ago and made a headcanon post for. I don't think it's _completely_ necessary to read that post before diving into this fic, but it makes it way easier because a lot of references are thrown in that you might not get if you don't at least give it a glance beforehand. I strongly recommend doing so, just so you won't be confused by anything. So for anyone interested, [here ](http://sohotthateveryonedied.tumblr.com/post/171398216063/voltron-hospital-au) is the post.
> 
> (Also I'm not going to lie; I have no idea what all the technical medical stuff means so if anything is wrong, just go with it I guess. I'm not a doctor anyway. It's actually kind of funny because I've been watching doctor shows forever, but I still somehow have no clue what they're ever talking about.)

_It’s a look patients get in their eyes._

_There is a scent. The smell of death._

_Some kind of sixth sense._

_When the great beyond is headed for you, you feel it coming._

_What’s the one thing you’ve always dreamed of doing before you die?_

* * *

**Pidge**

Pidge knocked on the door of Keith and Shiro’s apartment, scowling. Not that she didn’t love her daily trips to the Brogane household—most of which were simply to rob their pantry for snacks—but at five in the morning? Not so much.

By the time Shiro finally answered the door, he looked even more frazzled than he’d sounded over the phone. His two-toned hair was half brushed and his tie hung loose over his shirt. He wore eyeliner on only one eye. When he saw Pidge, though, he smiled in relief. “Thank God. Look, I’m really sorry to bother you so early in the morning, but can you please help me with the human disaster in there? We have to be at work in…” He checked his watch. “Twenty minutes. And he _still_ won’t get out of bed.”

That made Pidge’s eyebrows pull together. If there was one thing Keith cared about, it was surgery. Never would Pidge have pegged Keith as the kind to purposefully miss work, _especially_ when she knew he had a long shift in the ER today. It was like a five year-old declining ice cream. “Doesn’t he have the final surgery for that surfing accident patient today?”

“Yes, yes he does. And he _knows_ that. He also knows that _somebody_ has a neuroendoscopy he really needs to get to, but his baby brother is being a _stubborn child about it!”_ That last part was louder, intended for Keith to hear.

A muffled _“Fuck off!”_ sounded from Keith’s room. So he _was_ alive in there.

“Are you sure he isn’t just sick?”

“Already checked his temperature and it was normal. Plus he isn’t any paler than usual, his throat works just fine, and he didn’t throw up the granola bar I threw at his head an hour ago. Physically, there’s no reason he can’t work today. And he’s not even giving me a good reason for not going—he just keeps saying no.”

Pidge was stumped. “So you mean to tell me the great Keith Kogane, the most work-obsessed person I’ve ever met, the same guy who locked Lance in a utility closet intern year to steal a surgery from him, is too lazy to go to work?” It sounded like lunacy. Most days Shiro had to fight just to get Keith to _leave_ the hospital otherwise he’d collapse from exhaustion. This was a rare phenomenon. “Forgive me if this is too obvious or something, but have you tried bribery? You could promise him scrubbing in on a craniotomy or something,” Pidge suggested.

“I’ve tried everything from threats, to bribes, to incentives. He just _refuses_ to get out of bed,” Shiro said, running a hand through his bangs. “And I’m already late so I can’t waste time bullying him, which is why I called you.”

Pidge patted his shoulder—the flesh one—sympathetically. “Don’t worry, Shiro. Doctor Gunderson is here to save the day.” She pushed past him further into the apartment, heading straight for Keith’s room. “KOGANE!” she yelled as she marched. “GET YOUR SKINNY ASS OUT OF BED!”

She opened the door to his room, finding that her friend was indeed still in bed and didn’t seem eager to change that status anytime soon. Keith was little more than a lump under the blankets, the only visible part of him being his black floof of hair.

Pidge started off easy. Give him a chance to escape the big guns. “Keith, come on. Get up.” She poked him in the side, digging her fingers into his ribs.

“Go away,” came his muffled reply. He swatted her away and curled in on himself further.

“Not going to happen, Grumpy. You’ve got work today.”

“Well that sucks, ‘cause I’m staying here.”

“Are you five?” Pidge tugged on the blankets, but he tightened his grip. “Keith, I’m not kidding. Rise and shine you actual bowl of cold soup.”

“Bite me, munchkin.”

“Come on, don’t you want to go cut people open?” She pulled on the same voice one would use to ask their dog if it wanted to go for a walk. “Who wants to go slice some people up? Who wants to perform some good old thoracotomies and bowel resections? You do, that’s who!”

“No, I don’t. Now go away and leave me alone.”

Pidge looked at Shiro, who now stood in the doorway cradling a box of cereal in his prosthetic like it was an infant. He’d apparently used the time given by Pidge taking over negotiations to tame his bedhead, and both his eyes now displayed perfect wings. “Wow, you really weren’t kidding,” Pidge said.

Shiro shrugged and grabbed a handful of cereal. “Told you. It’s like dealing with a toddler.” He shoved the handful into his mouth.

“You know I can hear you guys, right?”

“Keith,” Shiro said, mouth full of cereal. “You can’t stay in here forever. You’re a surgeon; you _have_ to go to work. Saving lives is not optional.”

“Oh, yeah? Too bad.”

Pidge pulled off her sneaker and threw it at the lump. “Come on, Keith, get up. Kolivan is going to be pissed if you don’t show up for your shift.”

Keith rolled over onto his stomach and pulled a pillow over his head. His voice became further muffled, like he was speaking from inside of a marshmallow. “I don’t care. I already told you, I’m not going in today.”

Pidge scowled and trotted over to the bed. She threw herself on top of the lump that was Keith, draping her stubby limbs over him like an octopus. She poked him in the approximate area where his head was. “What’s wrong? Is poor Keithy bear PMS-ing or something?”

“No.”

“Hungover?”

“No.”

“Then what’s your damage?”

Keith rolled over, shoving Pidge off of him. He lifted the pillow, exposing his face, scowl and all. “I have a feeling,” he said. Like that clarified anything.

Pidge shifted and stretched out on her back, lying parallel to Keith. “You have a feeling,” she repeated.

“Yes.”

“Um, okay. What kind of feeling are we talking about?”

“Like…Like I might die today.”

Well.

That certainly wasn’t the answer Pidge had been expecting, but okay. She rolled with it nonetheless. “You feel like you might die today. Dark, but alright. Do you know _how_ you’re going to die, or..?”

Keith rolled his eyes, staring up at the ceiling. “No, I can’t see the future. Just… I’ve got this really bad feeling, you know? Like that feeling you get in your gut right before something awful happens. I felt it before the car crash. I felt it before I lost that patient last week. And I feel it again now, which means something really bad is going to happen today. So I’m being smart, taking my gut’s advice, and avoiding it altogether.” He paused. “Plus my conditioner decided to stop working and I think I have brittle bones. All bad signs.”

He turned his head and looked at Pidge, narrowing his eyes. “So I don’t care want you have to say. I’m staying home.” And with that, he pulled the blanket back over his face.

Pidge breathed in deeply, closing her eyes. This was going to be harder than she thought. But she was nothing if not determined. She sat up, pulling the blanket off Keith’s face. Violet eyes stared back at her with contempt. “Okay, fine. If by some insane disaster, you die today, I owe you fifty bucks. Happy?”

She didn’t wait for an answer and stood up on the bed, kicking Keith and ignoring his muffled grunts. “Now come on, mister. Move, move, move!”

Keith swatted at her ankle, but pulled himself out of bed, grumbling all the while. “Fine, fine, I’m going. Stop kicking me with your tiny gremlin feet,” he groused. “But if I get hit by a bus halfway to the hospital, it’s on your conscience.”

Pidge bounced on the mattress a few more times as she watched Keith shuffle past Shiro in the doorway and cross the hall to the bathroom. She held out her hands and grinned. “Ta-da! I give you one grumpy and awake mullet man.”

Shiro smiled, grateful. “You’re a lifesaver, Pidge.”

She dropped back down to the floor, dusting off her hands. “Don’t I know it.”

* * *

**Allura**

Allura stood in the hallway, staring at the OR board. Not even staring— _studying._ Challenging. Daring it to fill all those empty slots with scheduled surgeries, otherwise face her chiefly wrath.

The giant whiteboard where surgeries were scheduled was practically empty aside from a few procedures scattered here and there. It was unnerving, seeing evidence of the slowest day Altea Memorial Hospital had experienced in months. A chill hung in the air.

Allura crossed her arms over her pink scrubs, lips pursed and forehead creased. A quiet board equaled a quiet day equaled a disaster just waiting to strike. There was a storm on the horizon, a catastrophe to come. She could feel it in her bones.

Coran looked up from the charts he was organizing at the nurses’ station. “Are you having a staring contest with the whiteboard, Allura? Because I am sorry to break it to you, but I have a pretty good feeling the board will win.”

Allura shook her head and continued to stare pointedly at the board. “Look at it, Coran.”

Coran came up beside her, looking over it as well. “It’s…the surgery schedule. Am I missing something?”

She gestured vaguely with her hands, grasping for what wasn’t there. “There’s _nothing._ There’s only eight surgeries scheduled for today, and all minor procedures,” she said. “It’s so…quiet.”

Coran cocked his head to the side, pulling at his mustache. “Pardon me for asking, but how exactly is that something to fuss about? No surgeries should be a good thing, right? It means things are going well.”

Allura shook her head, dread blanketing her. “Yes, but it’s _too_ quiet. Do you know what a quiet board means, Coran? A quiet board is trouble. A quiet board is death. A quiet board means bad news to come.”

Coran raised his eyebrows. “Well, I see you’re being awfully vague and scary today. But not to worry, dear Allura! I’ll be on the lookout for any suspicious or potential disastrous activity that could possibly plague our good hospital today.” He grasped the collar of his orange scrubs confidently. “Nurse Coran is on the case.”

Allura shook her head, worried. “Trust me, Coran, something big is coming. After being chief for so long, I know by now what a quiet board means. It’s the calm before a storm.”  
Coran shivered. “Hm, chilling.”

“Indeed.”

Coran stood with her a while longer, staring down the offensive lack of surgeries. Finally, he turned and grabbed his medical cart. “Well, you have fun with your impending doom, Allura. I’m off to go visit Mr. Ferguson for his daily blood draw. Can’t wait to hear the end of his fascinating flesh-eating river eel story.” He walked off, humming a jaunty tune under his breath until he was out of earshot.

Allura, however, lingered in front of the board, grim as ever. “The calm before a storm,” she repeated quietly.

* * *

**Keith**

“Hey Hunk, I’ll pay you a billion dollars if you trip on that puddle on the floor right there.”

“Um, not to be a wet blanket or anything, but why would I do that?”

“Becauuuuse,” Lance whined, spinning around slouched in the rolling chair at the ER desk. “I’m so bored I might actually die. This is it. My demise. Somebody had better call a code because I’m flatlining from boredom.” He rotated faster, flailing his arms out like a child.

Keith didn’t look up from his patient charts. “Lance, stop complaining.”

Lance sat up. “You’re one to talk, Keith. You’re even more obsessive about getting surgeries than I am. And at least _I’m_ not the one who showed up ten minutes late and got chewed out by the chief.”

Keith just rolled his eyes. “I didn’t get chewed out by the chief. She didn’t even pay any more attention to me once she saw Shiro. And for the record, I’m not obsessive. Surgeons are supposed to be driven. And any surgeon who’s not might as well pack their bags and find a new career.”

Hunk’s lips pursed. “Someone’s more dark and twisty than usual today,” he noted. “What’s up with you?”

Keith bit his lip, but his pen didn’t still. “Nothing. Just a feeling.”

Lance stopped spinning. He looked at Keith, his bottom lip sticking out thoughtfully. “I get those.”

Keith looked up over his clipboard, eying Lance carefully to make sure he wasn’t just being sarcastic or making some taunt Keith didn’t catch on to. But he didn’t have that familiar impish grin he always wore. This time, he looked genuine. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“...What do you do about it?”

Lance shrugged and resumed his spinning. “Wait for it to pass.”

Keith almost didn’t believe it could be so simple, but he wasn’t about to go and prolong this conversation. Talking about emotions wasn’t quite his vibe. Especially with Hunk looking at him the way he was, like he was deciding in his head the statistics of his own survival if he tried to go in for a hug.

Hunk must have guessed correctly, because he made no move towards Keith. Instead, he slipped a pack of stickers from his lab coat pocket which he usually saved for the children down at the pediatric ward. Before Keith could bat him away, Hunk stuck a big teddy-bear-shaped one right in the center of Keith’s forehead.

Lance laughed while Keith scowled, his face turning as red as his scrubs. Keith pulled it off, but when he saw Hunk’s face fall, he caved and stuck it to his wrist instead. If nothing else, it couldn’t hurt to carry a little extra luck with him today. And Hunk’s pleased expression was worth it.

Hunk leaned against the desk. “You need to brighten up, man. Can’t be all grim and emo in a place where people need healing. Really ruins the whole vibe of it.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “You’re sounding like a hippie, Hunk.”

“Hey, it’s part of my charm. That’s why all the kids love me the best.” His pager beeped just then, and he checked it. “Oop, Shay’s paging me.” No move was made to hide his excitement which always flared up whenever Dr. Balmera was brought up. “We’ve got a tumor removal on a three month-old in an hour, then two more back-to-back after that, all before lunch. It’s like baby tumor palooza today.”

Lance wiggled his eyebrows. “Like you mind getting all that OR time with Shay, you dog.” Hunk blushed. When he left, Lance called after him, “Have fun cutting!” Then he slouched down again, leaning his head all the way back. “Man, he’s so lucky. I’d do _anything_ for a cool surgery. You know I haven’t been in a OR in five days? Five days!”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Quit complaining.”

“I’ll quit complaining when I get a good case,” Lance huffed, crossing his arms. In a moment of lost clarity, Keith became very aware of Lance’s tan, toned arms. He’d ditched his lab coat for the day and wore only his aqua blue scrubs, which complimented his skin almost _too_ well. It took some effort for Keith to pull his attention away before it got weird. Luckily, Lance didn’t notice and kept whining. “All I have today are some routine mole removals, a lipo, and a skin graft. I’m going out of my mind here!”

Keith tucked the charts under his arm and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his lab coat. “You should be grateful, you know. A quiet ER means nothing bad is happening.”

“Oh, like you’re one to talk. You’d stab me in the leg if it meant getting some time in an OR.”

Keith didn’t refute that because, well, he wasn’t wrong. So he shrugged. “Yeah, well, not today. Right now, I’m more than okay with quiet.”

Lance snorted and spun around once more. “You have fun with your sudden scalpel vegetarianism, but I want surgeries. I’m just hoping a really good, gruesome case comes in right through those doors.” He pointed at the double doors at the end of the hall, just waiting to be swung open to welcome an emergency with a bucket load of people to put back together. “But, judging by the way my luck usually goes around here, watch it be the quietest day in the history of surgeonkind because the universe is cruel like that.”

“Don’t jinx it,” Keith warned. But he’d barely even finished his sentence when suddenly the ER doors slammed open and two gurneys were pushed through with an incoming trauma.

“Motherf—” Keith grunted in frustration. The _one time_ he wanted a quiet day.

All complaints of boredom forgotten, Lance instantly brightened and bounded up, happy as a kid on Christmas morning. He grinned smugly at Keith, while Keith shot him an irritated look. Still, taking a deep breath, he accepted his fate. Might as well fix up some people, get his mind off that _“the world is ending”_ feeling. Maybe if he saved a few lives, it would keep him occupied long enough until he could eventually go home and go back to being a blanket burrito like he’d planned on.

So, like good doctors, the two sprang into action, Lance far more excited than Keith even on a good day.

Keith ran over to the first gurney, pulling his hair up into a ponytail as he looked over the patient. “What have we got?” He briefly registered Lance pouting in his line of sight, bitter that Keith had gotten to the better case first. Keith felt a twinge of pride as Lance resigned himself to tending to the second gurney, occupied by a woman who hadn’t stopped shrieking since their arrival. Poor Lance.

The first paramedic, Rolo, rattled off the info as they ran to the nearest trauma room. “Patient is James Ranveig. Forty year-old male, large sucking chest wound and head injury. He’s been unconscious since we found him.”

As Keith pulled on gloves, he took note of the other paramedic in the room. She was young, looked barely out of med school. Blood coated the front of her uniform down to her sleeves. That wasn’t why he stared, though. It was the fact that her entire left arm up to her elbow was plunged deep inside the wound on the patient’s chest.

That was…interesting. But, priorities first.

Keith went around to the other side of the gurney. “Vitals?”

“Tachycardic in the 140's, BP holding in the 90's.”

And just like that, Keith was in Dr. Kogane mode. His focus sharpened, mind racing through the options, his hands moving swiftly. “Get him intubated,” he ordered. He pulled out a pen light and checked the patient’s eyes. “Right pupil’s blown. Could be a hematoma.” He turned and called over his shoulder, “Someone get me Dr. Shirogane!”

He glanced at the chest wound, which looked charred around the edges. “What happened to this guy?”

“He and his buddy built some kind of machine,” Rolo said. “We don’t know the details, but something went wrong when they tested it out and then after this guy got hurt, the machine itself ignited. Pretty hardcore, huh?”

“I’ll say,” Keith murmured, eyes sweeping the damage.

“Kogane, I’m getting absent breath sounds on the right side.”

Keith moved and grabbed his stethoscope. “He’s getting cyanotic,” he said. “He’s in respiratory distress. Someone get him hooked up to the ventilator.” Finally, he addressed the bloody elephant in the room. He barely looked up as he checked the patient’s lungs. “Who are you?”

The younger paramedic spoke for the first time since they got off the ambulance. “Olia.” Her voice was unsteady, but that was probably understandable, given her arm was inside a man’s abdomen. Most people didn’t wake up in the morning expecting that to come of their day.

“Olia, would you mind telling me why you have your hand inside my patient?”

Rolo interceded, “I’d like to say for the record that I told her not to.”

Olia ignored him. “I tried to tamponade the wound with gauze and pressure, but the only thing that would stop the bleeding was my hand. Every time I tried to move it, he just started bleeding out all over again.”

Keith rolled his eyes and came over to examine the wound. As he did, Rolo kept talking. “You don’t stick your hand inside of a patient when you don’t know how he was injured, Olia. You don’t stick your hand inside of a patient at all!”

“Yeah, thanks, I know that now!” She growled under her breath and looked at Keith. “Am I allowed to take my hand out now?”

Instead of answering, Keith pointed at Rolo. “You’re no longer needed here. Scram.”

Rolo spluttered. “What? But she gets to stay!” he said, pointing accusingly at Olia.

“Yeah, she does. She also has her hand stuck inside my patient,” Keith shot back. “So unless you plan on shoving your foot up his ass, you’re free to go.” He jerked his thumb toward the open door. “Out.”

Olia smirked while Rolo left the room, grumbling to himself.

“Don’t get too happy,” Keith told her. “You’ve got your finger on a major bleeder, so right now you’re all that’s keeping Mr. Ranveig from bleeding out. The only thing you’ve earned is an all-expenses-paid trip to the OR.” He turned to one of the nurses. “Tell my brother to meet us in OR three.”

As they wheeled the patient out, Lance watched with wide eyes from where he stood next to his own patient, Mr. Ranveig’s wife. Her left arm and shoulder looked severely burned, so naturally Lance had taken the initiative on that one, being just about the best plastics specialist in Altea. Still, seeing the look on Lance’s face, Keith had to admit he felt a bit smug, knowing he’d gotten the juicier case.

“Seriously?” Lance demanded, looking utterly, _utterly_ betrayed. “Come on, I’d _love_ to get a case like that!” He paused. “Uh, no offense,” he said to Mrs. Ranveig. Luckily, she was too in shock to notice much of what was going on. Lance must have sedated her—a welcome change from the traumatized screaming.

Keith shrugged, amused by Lance’s pout. “You snooze, you lose.”

**Lance**

The medical team disappeared around the corner to the elevators, off to the OR. Once Keith was gone, Lance grumbled to himself, “Lucky mullet. _He’s_ the one who came in late because he couldn’t get out of bed on time, and now he gets to operate on a guy who has a hand inside him? How is _that_ fair?”

The woman didn’t answer, still staring blankly at the floor while Lance examined the extent of her burns. “These are looking second degree for the most part,” he told her, mostly the fill the silence. Which was a stark contrast to not ten minutes ago when she’d been screaming from the moment she got out of the ambulance. Silence was still better, though.

“Man, that must have been some accident,” he said as his eyes swept the damage. “Exactly what happened to you guys out there?”

Like being awoken from a coma, she looked up then, eyes more focused than they’d been before. Before, she was in shock. Now, she looked pissed. “What happened? _What happened?_ I’ll tell you what happened. My husband and his best friend are _idiots_ who thought it would be fun to build a goddamn bazooka in our yard. Like this is the World War Two era!”

Lance’s hands stilled and he blinked, surprised. “Wait, you’re serious?” And he thought Pidge and Hunk’s 3D-printed fork/spoon/knife hybrid had been crazy.

“That was how I reacted too! They built their stupid big gun like a couple of toddlers, and then they tried to shoot the damn thing! Right in my backyard! And when the thing wouldn’t work, James decided to be an idiot and go stand in front of his big gun and—”

As the pieces clicked together in his head, Lance’s face drained of color. He didn’t know a lot about bazookas, but suddenly his stomach rolled when he remembered the one thing he _did_ know. He waved his hands, shushing her. “Wait—wait a second. Do you mean to tell me your husband _shot himself with a bazooka?”_

She faltered in her rant and her forehead creased. “Yes, why—?”

Lance grabbed her uninjured shoulder, staring her in the face, panic brimming. “Was there an explosion?”

“What?”

“Was there an explosion?” he repeated, more insistent.

“No, why?” She looked truly frightened now. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh my god,” Lance breathed. And in the next second he had dropped his instruments, taking off and sprinting to the elevators as fast as his legs could carry him.

As he raced down the hallway, he passed Allura. “Hey, slow it down!” she yelled, but it fell on deaf ears.

_Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God._

* * *

**Shiro**

In OR three, Keith and Shiro were all scrubbed in, ready to operate. X-rays had revealed there was some kind of metal device deep inside the wound, which they would have to remove somehow without letting the patient bleed out in the process. Not to mention the little hand-in-a-patient situation. That had certainly thrown Shiro for a loop when he’d first arrived in the operating room.

“He’s got a slight hematoma,” Shiro was saying, “but it’s nothing major. Though you’re definitely going to need help with this bleeder. The second Olia takes her hand out, you’re gonna need all the hands you can get when you take out the foreign object _and_ keep him from bleeding out at the same time.”

Keith smiled at his brother while he slipped on surgical gloves. “You sure you won’t get bored slumming it with a trauma surgery?”

Shiro shrugged. “I’ve been staring at nothing but brains for the past year. I could use a refresher. And I’ve got the time.” Then, to everyone: “Okay, guys. We’re going to do a simple thoracotomy, and Olia here is going to take her hand out. Dr. Kogane is going to clamp the bleeder once we have more exposure. You ready, Olia?”

She shrugged with the arm not positioned over the bleed. “I really just want to get my hand out of this guy, to be honest. The whole bloody, squishy insides thing? Not great for my gag reflex.”

Shiro chuckled. “Fair enough.” He turned to the scrub nurse. “Scalpel.”

He poised his hand over the incision site, ready to cut. “Olia, take your hand out on three, okay? We need to be quick about this if we’re going to get the bleed under control.”

Olia nodded, looking all too eager to remove her hand and get the hell out of that room. Shiro didn’t blame her. He lowered the scalpel.

“Alright, one, two—”

Lance burst into the room just then, the sound of the door hitting the wall echoing all around. “STOP!” he yelled. “Don’t move your hand!” Shiro froze, torn between confusion and irritation.

Keith looked at Lance like he was a crazy person. “Lance? What are you—”

“Was there an exit wound?”

_“Dr. McLain,”_ Keith said more forcefully. “What the hell is your problem? This isn’t your patient.”

_“Was there an exit wound?”_ Lance demanded, ignoring the question.

Keith stared at him, brows furrowed. His anger remained hot as ever, but something about Lance’s eyes must have put him on edge. It was the same look that made Shiro put down his scalpel in the first place. “No, it was just an entrance. No exit. Why?”

Lance’s hand flew to cover his mouth. “Oh, god,” he breathed. He looked beyond panicked, and Shiro looked around for some explanation. Was he missing something?

“Just spit it out, Lance. What are you trying to say?” Shiro said.

Lance pointed at the body on the table. “What I’m saying is that there is live, unexploded ammunition in that guy’s chest. If she moves her hand...” He didn’t finish his explanation. He didn’t have to.

Shiro’s eyes widened, frozen. The temperature in the room dropped about five degrees as everyone gradually became aware of what was really happening. Slowly, Shiro looked at Olia, who had paled about three shades lighter. “Oh my god,” she said.

_Nope, nope, nope._ Shiro was all too familiar with the signs of oncoming panic, and he knew one thing for sure: If Olia panicked and wound up moving her hand in the process, it was all over. So, willing his own fear to recede to a farther corner in the back of his mind where he stored the rest of his trauma, Shiro tried to bring the situation back under control as best he could.

Shiro took a deep breath. “Okay, nobody panic. We can handle this.” Then, softer, “Olia, I want you to stay as still as you possibly can. Don’t move your hand, don’t move your body. Can you do that?” His voice stayed perfectly even.

Shakily, Olia nodded.

“Good,” he said. “I don’t want you to worry. We’re gonna figure this out, okay?”

Shiro pulled down his mask and turned to Keith, who stared right back at him, for once terrified. Shiro walked carefully until he was beside him, placing down his scalpel on the tray. He leaned down until his mouth hovered directly over Keith’s ear, and said, quiet enough that the others in the room couldn’t hear, “Keith, I want you to go downstairs _calmly._ Walk, don’t run. Find Coran and tell him we have a code black situation. Tell him I’m sure and that he needs to call the bomb squad immediately.”

* * *

**Pidge**

“Ma’am, I promise you, the second I get an update on what’s going on with your husband I’ll tell you, okay? Now can you _please_ stay still so I can keep working?”

Pidge was _this_ close to stabbing herself in the eye with her scissors. For whatever Lance-like reason, Lance had left his current patient to go help out in the OR with Keith’s own patient while yelling something about bazookas. Predictably, that worried the wife to the point where they’d had to sedate her again just so she would stay still enough for Pidge to suture the gash on her shoulder from the shrapnel she’d caught along with the burns.

And the worst part? A trauma had come in just ten minutes ago with plenty of available patients, yet here Pidge was, doing sutures. Not operating on hearts or pulling debris out of organs, but sutures. Wonderful.

All around the ER were paramedics wheeling in gurneys, each with a fresh victim. Pidge overheard from two nurses that there had been a massive highway pileup just a few miles away, and all cases were being sent to Altea. But no, no, Pidge got to do sutures. Oh, what joy.

Pidge had nearly finished when her pager beeped. Praying it was an actual surgery, she checked it. It wasn’t quite the message she’d been expecting. “Code black?” she murmured to herself. “What the heck is a code black?”

She looked around, seeing Ezor nearby. “Hey Ezor, you’re good with people, right? Great, can you finish up Mrs. Ranveig’s stitches for me and wait with her for updates on her husband?”

Ezor caught on immediately. “You got the page too?”

“You have any idea what it means?”

Ezor shrugged. “Nope. Good luck figuring it out, though.” And with that, she took the instruments handed to her and picked up the sutures where Pidge had left off, smiling and asking Mrs. Ranveig how her day was going.

Meanwhile, Pidge went off to figure out what in the world was going on.

She found Hunk and Matt hounding Kolivan, the trauma attending, by the coffee cart.

“What does it mean, though?” Matt was asking.

Kolivan held up his hands. “Listen, I know about as much about the situation as you all do, so I’m not giving out any info. You’re just going to have to wait for the chief to explain everything.”

“Hey,” Pidge said. “You guys got the page?”

“Right in the middle of baby tumor palooza,” Hunk said, frowning. “We got told to evacuate the OR floor right as we were about to start. You have any clue what’s happening?”

“No idea. I’ve heard of a code blue, code red, code white, but never a code black.”

“I’m betting on it being a drill,” Matt said. “Testing our emergency preparedness or something. And, judging by the fact that everyone’s stumbling around trying to figure out what’s going on, we’re probably losing.”

“I don’t know,” said Hunk. “I heard that there was something happening in OR three.”

“Isn’t that where Keith took his chest wound patient? What could happen there that would reason calling a code black?” She turned to Kolivan, who looked more worried than he was letting on. “Kolivan? What does a code black mean?”

He stayed carefully neutral and began walking towards the end of the hallway where double doors separated the area from the emergency room. “We don’t know what the situation is yet, so it could mean a lot of things. We have no way of knowing until Chief Altea releases that info to the staff.”

“Okay, but is it something bad?” Hunk asked.

Kolivan pushed open the doors, and then there was chaos.

All over the ER were policemen in uniforms, shouting orders into their walkie-talkies. Even some firemen could be seen bustling around, barricading off areas and placating crowds of concerned hospital employees. With the ER already packed with patients, now it reminded Pidge of a jungle. A big, loud, crowded jungle of dark uniforms and body armor.

Kolivan’s mouth tightened. “Yes. It’s something bad.”

* * *

**Lance**

Keith and Lance stood outside the operating room among the rest of the surgical team, peering in through the window.

When the code black had been announced, it sent uproar blazing through the hospital. Word had gotten around that there was a situation in OR three, and in minutes Lance had already gotten dozens of calls from coworkers asking him what was going on. He ignored all of them.

They had emptied the room so now only Olia, Shiro, and Allura were allowed in. Shiro had already explained to Allura what the situation was, and by the grim looks on their faces, it didn’t look good.

Lance watched poor Olia through the window. She looked torn between crying and throwing up as she watched the pair talk amongst themselves. “Poor girl,” he said. “What did she stick her hand in there for, anyway?”

Keith leaned on the wall just outside the OR, arms crossed. “She was trying to save his life.”

“Yeah, and now she might die because of it.”

They watched on as Shiro walked to the door, face pinched with worry. Allura stayed behind with Olia. The moment Shiro opened the door, Keith and Lance flocked him, the rest of the staff close behind.

“So? What do we do now?” Keith asked.

“Now,” Shiro said, “we wait for the bomb squad to arrive so we can come up with a plan. All of you need to leave. Go downstairs, go home, go wherever. Just get off the floor and get to safety.” He waited as one by one, the crowd dispersed, all except for Lance and Keith.

Keith stared down his brother, unyielding. “That’s my patient in there. I need to stay.”

“Keith—”

“I don’t care, Shiro. This is my patient, my responsibility. And I’m not going to sit around twiddling my thumbs knowing my brother is trapped in an OR with a bomb in it. We’re doing this together.”

He and Shiro had a silent staring contest, each daring the other to back down, until finally Shiro relented. Possibly from intimidation, more likely because he had more pressing matters to deal with than wasting time arguing with his kid brother. “Fine,” he snapped. “You can stay. But the second that bomb even _looks_ like it’s going to blow, you’re gone. Capisce?”

“Fine,” Keith replied.

Shiro nodded, still clearly not pleased, but accepting there wasn’t more he could do to deter Keith from danger. Lance, however… “Lance, I’m sorry, but you need to go.”

Lance’s face fell. “What? But—”

“This isn’t a discussion. I want as few people stuck in there as possible. There’s no reason to put you in unnecessary danger.”

Lance wasn’t about to admit it, but he felt hurt. _He_ had been the one to figure out there was a bomb in the first place, and now he was being ushered away like some kid poking around where he didn’t belong? Meanwhile, Keith got to go and play hero with the rest of them while Lance sat helpless on the sidelines. It wasn’t fair.

Not to mention, how could Lance stand aside, perfectly safe but knowing Keith and Shiro were just upstairs, so close to death? How could he protect Keith if he wasn’t even allowed in the room?

“But what if—”

“Lance,” Keith said gently—more gentle than Lance had ever heard from him before. “You should go. Get somewhere safe.” His eyes were earnest, full of something Lance couldn’t identify.

Lance looked at Keith for a long while, then at Shiro, then at Keith again. He swallowed thickly, trying not to let the rejection get to him. “Okay, fine. Whatever. I’ll go…go make myself useful downstairs or something.” He turned and began the walk to the elevators, then thought of something and doubled back.

He came up to Keith, eyes searching, desperately trying to convey his own whirlwind of emotions. “Just… You know how in movies, there’s always the hero who stays and fights even though it’s dangerous? And then there’s the other guy? The guy who sees danger and runs in the other direction?” He grabbed Keith’s wrist, his voice urgently low. “Be the other guy.”

He didn’t let go until Keith nodded silently, unable to do more. With one last look, Lance went to the elevators which would take him to the lower floors where he’d be safe.

Once Lance was out of earshot, Keith breathed in deeply. “Well I definitely don’t plan on being the other guy. How about you?” He nudged Shiro with his elbow.

Shiro was resolute. “Me neither.”

“All right then.”

* * *

**Lance**

On the elevator ride down, Lance somehow grew more anxious than he’d been when he was ten feet away from live ammunition. Life’s funny that way.

_Okay, so what now?_ Keith was in the same room as a bomb that could go off in a second if a scared paramedic so much as twitched her finger. Lance wasn’t allowed to be there and make sure he stayed alive. That left him with nothing more to do besides worry himself into oblivion.

He followed his first instinct, which was to go for the ER. That was a safe place to go when he felt conflicted—a place he could clear his head by doing what he did best. And being there would give him something to do, something to make him feel less useless.

Unfortunately, the emergency room turned out to be where everyone else had instinctually gathered as well, doctors and patients alike. It was a madhouse.

The pit was full of patients in varying degrees of wellness. Lance spotted gray scrubs among the chaos and found Matt setting a woman’s broken arm. Dozens of paramedics were there too, each with a new patient who needed attention. Coran was herding a congregation of worried family members to the waiting room while their loved ones were being taken care of. And there were even police and firemen all around, shouting out orders and preparing for disaster. Madhouse.

When Hunk and Pidge caught sight of Lance in the middle of it all, they ran over. “What’s going on?” he asked them, looking around at the dozens of patients. Surely things couldn’t have been this hectic before, right? Or was he just remembering it wrong?

“There was a pileup a couple miles away,” Pidge said. “Most of them came just before the code black got called—which, by the way, what’s that all about? Is it just a really realistic emergency preparedness drill or something? Because I really don’t think this is the greatest time for that and—”

“There’s a live explosive in a body cavity and Keith and Shiro are with it,” Lance answered, too distracted to worry about the effects of disclosing such information. There were just too many. Too many patients, too many emergencies, too many people who didn’t have the option of getting surgery because the entire surgical floor had been evacuated.

Hunk and Pidge stiffened like he’d roundhouse slapped them. “There’s a _what?”_ Pidge demanded, probably hoping she’d misheard him.

Lance ignored her. “What are we going to do with all these people? We don’t have any operating rooms available.”

“All surgical cases are being transported to Marmora General,” Hunk answered. “But, um, rewind back to the bomb thing, please? What are Keith and Shiro doing in the same room with a bomb in it? Are—are they okay? Are you sure it’s really live ammunition? W-what about the rest of the hospital, is everyone else in danger too?” His voice shook, panic rising.

“I—I don’t—” Lance grunted, willing himself to focus. “Listen, all I can think of right now is what’s going on here because if I keep thinking about the fact that Keith could blow up at any second, I’m not going to be able to function. So somebody please, for the love of God, give me a person to fix.” He needed to keep his hands busy, whether it be by stitching or mending or bandaging. He needed something to keep him from bolting straight back to that OR and dragging Keith as far away from that situation as he could possibly get him.

Hunk and Pidge exchanged a glance, but by then, Lance was already gone.

First responders wheeled in a new gurney, this time with the broken form of a small child on it. Lance set himself on that one. “What have you got?” he asked, jumping into business. He couldn’t afford to dwell on anything regarding Keith or bombs or death. He needed to do the opposite of that. Think about life. Think about _saving_ a life.

“Ten year-old kid,” the first paramedic reported. “His SATs are in the gutter and he’s got sub-Q emphysema. He’s got no airway so we can’t intubate. We started a chest tube en route but he’s circling the drain.”

Lance listened to his chest. “Damn it,” he muttered. “This kid _really_ needs an OR.”

“It’s forty minutes to Marmora from here.”

“He doesn’t _have_ forty minutes—he’ll die before you get there.”

“Then what do we do?”

Lance stepped away, hands in his hair, thinking. After a moment, he made his decision. “He needs an OR,” he said. “I need you to page nurses Acxa and Narti to meet me in OR one with anyone else they can get, but make sure they know what’s going on and that this is their choice if they’re in.”

The paramedic leveled him with a serious look, like she thought he was either crazy or suicidal. Possibly both. “You realize what you’re doing, right?”

As they started wheeling the gurney away, Lance said, resolute, “I’m not letting this kid die on my watch when he have a perfectly good OR that could potentially save his life.”

_Let’s just hope it doesn’t get blown to hell before I can do that,_ he thought.

* * *

**Pidge**

Pidge caught up with Matt by the chief’s office where she found him leaning with his back against the closed door, eating an apple. “Hey, did you hear anything new about the code black situation?” she asked.

“Not much, though I keep hearing about the bomb squad coming in. Was there a threat or something? Or, like, maybe they’re just here to confirm a dud?”

Pidge grimaced, not wanting to voice the truth. Not until she knew _exactly_ what was going on. Part of her hoped maybe Lance misheard something, or maybe the bomb was a dud and they just needed to go through the protocol regardless. Anything better than what the mere thought of made her stomach roll.

Matt nearly fell over when the door opened and Allura came out of her office, looking worse for wear. She was instantly swarmed by the crowds of faculty demanding answers. Everyone talked over each other, questions of codes and patients and emergencies becoming a buzzing babble.

_“What’s going on?”_

_“Is there really a bomb in the hospital?”_

_“Are we doing some kind of safety drill?”_

_“Why aren’t we allowed to use the operating rooms?”_

“Everyone, quiet!” Allura ordered, holding up her hands for silence.

The deafening roar dimmed expectantly, and Allura continued. She raised her voice loud enough so her announcement would resonate all around the general area. “As you have all probably heard, we have a situation in OR three. I assure you, the bomb squad has been called, and everything will be fine once we get a gauge of what’s happening. The entire surgical floor has been evacuated, and we’re having pre-op patients and all traumas transferred to Marmora General. There is no danger to the north, south, and west wings of this hospital; just the east surgical wing. That said, anyone who wants to leave can leave. No one stays unless they volunteer to stay, understood?”

She nodded and left, checking her pager, most likely for updates. From the still-worried look on her face, Pidge could guess she didn’t get what she wanted. While the crowd dispersed, she ran to catch up with Allura, and Matt followed, tossing out his apple core in a nearby can.

Pidge grabbed Allura’s arm, pulling her to a halt. “Is there really an active bomb in a body cavity?” she asked, internally begging for Allura to say no.

Allura closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “Yes,” she said, opening her eyes. “Yes, there is.” She kept walking. Pidge followed at her heels, and Matt ran ahead and walked backwards in front of Allura.

“What’s being done, then? How are we handling it?” he asked.

“As of ten minutes ago, every operating room in this hospital has been evacuated except for Dr. Shirogane’s team.”

“And Dr. McClain’s team,” Pidge added.

Allura stopped mid-step and wheeled on Pidge. “What did you just say?”

“I saw Lance taking a patient up to the surgical floor a couple minutes ago.”

Allura’s mouth opened, twitched like a fish for a few moments, then closed again. She made a frustrated grunting noise and, without another word, strode off in the direction of the elevators. Matt and Pidge stayed where they were and watched her go.

Matt cracked his knuckles, a habit he only did when he was scared. “Crap. This really is as bad as it seems, isn’t it?”

“Yup.” Eyes narrowed, Pidge followed Allura, leaving Matt behind. “Go stay with Hunk, will you?” she called over her shoulder. “He needs someone to keep him calm or he’ll freak himself into a panic attack.”

“Wait, where are you going?”

Pidge shrugged without turning around. “Probably to make things worse.”

* * *

**Pidge**

“Keith Gerald Kogane, would you mind telling me what the hell you’re doing in here?” Pidge demanded, striding into the OR like there wasn’t a bomb a few feet away being held in place only by a paramedic’s terrified hand.

A tall man in a flak jacket stepped in front of her. “What are you doing here? I told my guys not to let anyone near the room.”

Pidge tilted her head. “Oh, you mean those guys in the hallway? Yeah, one asked me what I was doing and I just told him I was coming into this room and he let me walk right by.” She shrugged innocently. Then she turned her gaze on Keith across the operating table. “Now, you,” she said. “What are you doing hanging out in a room with a bomb in it?”

“What are _you_ doing in a room with a bomb in it?” Keith retorted. He stood by the patient’s head with the ambu bag, which manually ventilated the patient with each squeeze of his hand.

“Touché, but I’m still pissed at you. You realize you drove Lance crazy, right? He’s doing surgery down the hall right now because he’s too scared to do anything else.”

Keith’s grip on the bag slipped. “He’s doing _what?”_

“Hey—” flak jacket man interceded.

“Yeah, there was a huge gruesome pileup on the freeway and Lance is doing a lung resection on some kid who wouldn’t have made it to Marmora.”

“Lance is doing a lung resection by himself? Man, all I’ve got is a bomb in a guy.”

“Excuse me—”

“Possible splenectomy, too. Kid was a wreck.”

“Now that’s just unfair. You realize I didn’t even get to do a surgery today? This was supposed to be _my_ patient, but now everything’s gone all ‘we’re all about to die’ and stuff and—”

“Stop talking!” the man barked.

Pidge and Keith jumped at the burst, then exchanged irritated looks. Keith rolled his eyes. “Rude,” he muttered.

“Who even is this guy?” Pidge asked, making a face.

The guy squinted at her. “Thace. Head of the bomb squad.”

Keith leaned over to Pidge and whispered, “He’s been kind of an asshole so far. He called me Keith Urban.”

Pidge snickered, but Thace’s jaw set, tone authoritive. “You,” he said, pointing at Pidge. “Out.”

“Um, no? If Keith gets to stay then so do I.”

“This is my OR as of now and what I say—”

“Technically it’s Keith’s OR since it’s his patient and all.”

Thace looked at Shiro for help, exasperated. Shiro simply shrugged. He’d already had plenty of experience dealing with the Terror Twins, so he intelligently stayed out of it.

Thace pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a breath. “Fine. You can stay. But the second things get hot, you’re out of here. Got it?”

Pidge wrinkled her nose. “So pushy.” She joined Keith and took over ventilating the patient. They were in for a long day.

* * *

**Lance**

Lance didn’t look up when the door to his OR slammed open. “Hey, Chief. How’s it going?”

Allura stomped in, holding a surgical mask in front of her face. “Just what _exactly_ do you think you’re doing in here, Dr. McClain?”

“Saving a life. What are you doing?”

“Trying to save _your_ life. You all need to evacuate immediately. There’s a—”

“Yeah, yeah, bomb in a guy’s chest. I know.” Lance gestured to the nurse to hand him a clamp. “This kid wasn’t going to make it unless I did something, Allura. He needed surgery, and we had an OR. What would you have done?”

Allura crossed her arms. “I wouldn’t have chosen to operate with live ammunition twenty feet down the hall.” Lance shrugged and kept working. “You understand the danger of what you’re doing, don’t you? If you refuse to evacuate, you’re sentencing everyone in this room to death.”

“All due respect, Chief, but I’m not going to walk away and leave this kid to die on the table just because you say I should.” He raised his voice. “But anyone here who wants to evacuate, you can go.” He picked up his head. “Going once… Going twice…” A handful of people shuffled out, leaving only Lance, Allura, and Acxa.

Lance raised his eyebrows, smiling politely under his mask. “There you have it. Need anything else, Chief?”

Allura scowled and pointed at Lance, then the patient. “You finish as fast as you can. And the second you do, I want you out of here. Am I clear?”

Lance would have saluted if his hands weren’t wrist-deep in organs. “Crystal clear, boss. How _is_ the bomb thing going, by the way? You guys have a plan for that yet?”

Allura’s jaw tightened. “Just hurry up.” And with that last command, she left the room. The door closing echoed in the stillness of the room.

Acxa handed Lance forceps. “You know you’re insane, right?”

Lance shrugged. “Insane is just another word for daring in my dictionary.”

Acxa rolled her eyes. “Good luck with that.”

* * *

**Shiro**

Shiro and Thace stood side by side in the next room over, going over X-rays.

The black and white images showed Olia’s hand suspended just above the bomb. The bomb was large, situated in the upper right quadrant of Mr. Ranveig’s chest, not quite touching the right lung but just close enough to pose a danger and impact his breathing if jostled. Well, that and the fact that it could also blow up his entire body. That was kind of a major factor as well.

Thace looked over the X-rays, frowning. “This isn’t good,” he mumbled. From the angle of the X-rays, it was impossible to tell whether Olia’s hand was directly on the bomb, or merely in the space with it. “From the looks of it, if she moves even a centimeter it could set that thing off.”

“We don’t know that for sure,” Shiro said, eyes carefully sweeping the charts. “Her hand might just be in there with it. We have no way of knowing.”

“Regardless, we need to do something fast. The longer we wait, the greater chance the ammo will blow.”

“And the greater chance the patient will bleed out and die,” Shiro added. “That bomb needs to come out soon if we’re going to save him.”

Thace crossed his arms over his chest. “One of my guys talked to the patient’s friend. Apparently the device is homemade, which means it’s unstable and _very_ unreliable. We know next to nothing about it. For all we know, it might just be a dud and all this is for nothing.”

“Or?”

Thace hesitated. “Or, the slightest nudge could set it off. Hell, it might even choose to go off on its own. There’s no way to predict what it might do.”

“So what are our options?” The more Shiro talked with Thace, the more hopeless everything seemed. Guy was a real ray of sunshine.

Thace pointed with two fingers at Olia’s hand in the X-ray. “From the way it looks, there’s a slight chance she could slip her hand out without jostling the bomb, but that runs too much of a risk to even attempt.”

“Not to mention the patient would bleed out in minutes if her hand stopped plugging the bleed. Any more ideas?”

Thace glanced at the wall, where somewhere on the other side, Olia and the others were. “Our other option is to have her pull out the bomb herself.”

Shiro’s eyebrows lifted. “You think she can keep it steady enough?”

“No, I don’t.”

Shiro sighed, running a hand over the back of his neck. “So our options are either blow up, or let the patient bleed out and _then_ blow up. Lovely.” He closed his eyes, lifting his head toward the ceiling. “Things are definitely as bad as they seem, aren’t they?”

He didn’t bother watching Thace’s inevitable nod. “Which is why I strongly request you doctors get out while you can.”

Shiro spared a small smile. “We’re a pretty stubborn bunch, in case you couldn’t already tell.”

“Clearly.”  
Just then, a panicked shout nearly made Shiro’s heart leap out of his throat.

“We need some help over here! Like, now!”

_Pidge._

Thace and Shiro turned to each other, mirroring alarm, before bolting and running to the other OR as fast as they could.

* * *

**Keith**

Olia was shaking so badly, Keith knew it was only a matter of time before that bomb moved. “What if—What if I just take my hand out real quick?” she asked, tremors spiking through her words.

Keith sent Shiro a panicked look and inclined his head just slightly toward the door. Never before had he wished more that he and Shiro had telepathy like they used to pretend when they were kids. Still, he hoped Shiro could at least see the clear message on his face: _Run. Get out of here. Save yourself._

Shiro shook his head, taking the reins. “Olia,” he said gently. “I need you to calm down. Can you do that for me?”

Olia shook her head frantically, teeth chattering. “I—I can’t do this. This is a mistake, Dr. Shirogane. I can’t—I can’t be here right now. I need to go.”

Shiro slowly came around the end of the table, hands raised. “It’ll only be a little longer, Olia. Remember, you’re keeping Mr. Ranveig from bleeding out. You’re saving his life. Just hang on for a little while longer.”

“N-no, I want this to be over. I have to take it out.”

“We need to clear the room,” Thace whispered to Shiro, just quiet enough Keith could pick it up. “If she moves, we’re finished.”

“I—I’m too young to die,” Olia stammered. “There’s still—there’s still so much I want to do.”

Thace jerked his head to the door and said, his voice low so Olia couldn’t hear, “Kogane. Gunderson. You need to get out of here.”

“We’re not leaving her,” Pidge told him, stubborn as ever as she kept up the ventilation.

“Olia,” Keith said. He put his hand on her arm, both in an attempt to comfort her and to keep her hand as steady as he could. Keith didn’t know a lot about comforting people, so he had no idea if either was working. “You can’t move yet or it could trigger the bomb. Just relax.”

Olia’s breath hitched. Her shoulders quaked. “No, no, no. It has to come out. It has to.”

Shiro’s hands raised in a placating gesture. “Olia—”

“No! I am twenty-two years old. I shouldn’t even be here.” She was trembling like a leaf, and Keith felt the tremors travel down her arm.

They were at the end of the line.

Several voices spoke at once, trying to calm her.

_“We’ll figure it out soon, just hang on until then—”_

_“Try not to move—”_

_“Just hold on—”_

“No!” she sobbed. And jerked back her hand.

Everything moved in slow motion after that.

Both too slow and too fast, Olia’s hand slid out of the wound.

Keith’s eyes widened with terror, and he heard Thace’s wordless shout as everyone hit the deck. Keith couldn’t even think.

_No._

Shiro, Pidge, Thace, Olia, everyone. They were all going to die. _Keith_ was going to die.

His body moved of its own accord while his mind comprehended things sluggishly.

He watched numbly as Olia ran from the room, crying. His eyes fixed themselves on the red handprint she left on the wall, the last trace of proof that she had ever been there in the first place. The door swung shut, clapping loudly over the static in Keith’s ears.

A breath. Two. Moments that felt like hours, awaiting when the numbing silence would end.

Keith must have come back to his body somewhere along the way. He realized things one by one, like his senses were slowly clicking back into place.

He felt blood and tissue around his hand, the warm squishy texture contrasting the sensation of cold metal brushing against his fingertips.

He heard his heartbeat in his ears, deafening in the quiet. The only outside sound that remained was the steady beeping of the heart monitor. Keith’s lungs felt like they were going to burst, and he realized he’d been holding his breath. He exhaled in a rush, setting his breathing in time with the monitor just to give himself something solid to focus on.

The three people on the floor ever so slowly lifted their heads. As realization sank in at the sight of Keith, Shiro choked like he’d been shot. His eyes were wide, switching from Keith’s face to his hand. Keith made a point of not following his gaze because he already knew what he would see.

The wound. The bomb. His hand.

_What did I just do?_

Pidge rose, a squeak dying halfway out of her throat. “Oh my god, _Keith,”_ she breathed. She took a step forward, but Thace threw out a hand to stop her.

“Nobody move,” he ordered. “Not a muscle. Not a twitch. No sudden movements.” Keith couldn’t read his expression, whether he was concerned or angry or scared. Maybe all of them, maybe none.

Keith closed his eyes, opened them, and closed them again. It took all he had not to shake, because he couldn’t now. Not when his hand was the only thing holding the bomb in place. Not when the lives of everyone in the room were _literally_ in his hand. He felt sick.

He took a deep breath. “What did I do?” he whispered. “What did I do? What did I do? What did I do?” He became a broken record, his mouth going in stuttered stops like his brain, trying to comprehend the magnitude of the situation he was now in.

Keith made eye contact with Shiro and sucked in a harsh breath, voice cracking. “What the _hell_ did I just do?”


	2. As We Know It

**Keith**

“Do you even realize how _stupid_ that was?” Shiro demanded. He’d been pacing frantically along the length of the operating room floor for the past ten minutes. Keith, on the other hand, remained in the same exact spot he’d been for those same ten minutes: next to the gurney, hand on the bomb, body completely still. 

He tried to ignore Thace carefully strapping a flak jacket to his chest. He also chose not to let himself think about how the jacket would do nothing to save him when this bomb blew less than two feet away from his body. 

So he stayed still, kept his mouth shut, and listened while Shiro vented. Thace and Pidge didn’t give any indication they were listening in on the argument, but Keith knew they were. They were right next to him; it would have been difficult _not_ to listen. They didn’t add anything, though, which Keith was grateful for. 

“I just—I don’t get how you could _do_ something like this, Keith! Before, you had an option. I knew that if worse came to worst, you could escape, but _now?_ Now, if that thing blows, you’ll be the one to die and I—” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “God, I never should have let you stay in here. From the very beginning I should have made you leave this hospital and go home the second I knew it was dangerous. You could _die,_ Keith!” 

Finally, after so long of taking Shiro’s tongue-lashing without a word, Keith snapped. “For the love of God, shut _up!”_ he shouted, stunning Shiro into silence. “I get it, okay? I know this is the most stupid, moronic, _dangerous_ thing I’ve ever done, but you know what? If I can’t keep my hand still we’re _all_ going to die, so why don’t you just shut up and think of a way to get me out of this before I start panicking too.” 

Shiro gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. “I know, I just—I don’t—” He sighed. “You’re my _brother,_ Keith. I’m supposed to be the one watching your back. I’m supposed to be the one protecting you, but now…” He didn’t say more, but Keith knew what he meant. _Now, if you die, I won’t be able to do anything to stop it._

Before Keith could respond, Thace interrupted. Good. Keith didn’t have anything to say that would provide much comfort anyway. “Dr. Shirogane, why don’t you go track down Chief Altea and update her on what’s going on,” he suggested. 

“Yeah,” Keith agreed, nodding. “Go do that.” Anything to get Shiro out of the room before Keith started crying, which felt dangerously close. 

Shiro bit his lip and nodded, reluctantly leaving the room. But just as he stepped out, he hesitated in the doorway. He looked back at Keith, eyes filled with so many words he didn’t voice. “Just...stay okay until I get back, alright?” 

He didn’t leave until Keith swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. “Okay.” And the door swung shut. 

“Thanks,” Keith told Thace, letting go of the breath that had lodged itself in his lungs. He couldn’t take all this emotional crap. 

Thace hummed an affirmative. Then, “He was right, you know. That was really stupid of you.” 

Pidge’s hands squeezed the ambu bag. “It was, Keith. Incredibly stupid.”

Keith would have shrugged if he could. “What was I supposed to do? Let you guys all die?” 

“That doesn’t mean you stick your hand in with a _bomb,”_ Thace hissed. 

“And what would you have done in my place?” 

Thace’s face hardened. He didn’t answer. 

After that, the only sounds for the next few minutes were the steady beeps from the heart monitor and the quiet puffs that came with each squeeze of the bag. _Puff. Puff. Puff._

“I had a feeling,” Keith said quietly. He didn’t need to elaborate. Pidge knew what he meant. The broken gleam in her eyes told him that much. 

“What was that?” Thace asked quietly. 

Keith tore his eyes away from Pidge. “It’s nothing,” he said. 

Just a feeling.

* * *

**Allura**

“Coran, how are we doing with evacuating the existing patients?” Allura asked once she reached the nurse’s station. She had just finished an unsettling conversation with Shiro and was pretty sure if one more bad thing happened, she would collapse completely. But she couldn’t afford to fall apart yet. Not when the entire hospital relied on her.

“We’re going room by room, and every floor above and below the east wing should be empty in a couple of hours,” he reported. 

“That’s not fast enough.” 

“No, it’s not,” Coran agreed. He handed her a rolled-up parchment he’d had tucked under his arm. “Here are the hospital blueprints you asked for.” 

Allura thanked him and stepped into her office. Coran followed. “If I may ask, why did you need them?” 

Allura fell into her desk chair and started unrolling the blueprints, laying them out on the desk. “There’s something I’m not sure about, and I need to find out if I’m right. I can’t afford to relax when I’m responsible for everything that happens in this hospital.” 

“You understand not all of this is on your shoulders, right?” 

Allura looked up, meeting Coran’s eyes. “Isn’t it, though? This is my hospital. I’m in charge, so it’s my job to make sure everyone gets out of this situation alive.” 

Coran’s eyes softened, concerned. “And what about you? Are _you_ okay?” 

Allura laughed without humor. “Am I okay?” she repeated incredulously. “There is a _bomb_ in an OR with three of my best surgeons in it, one of whom has his hand in _with_ the bomb, and another OR occupied by one of my _other_ best surgeons who is refusing to evacuate. And on top of that, I have hundreds of patients to be transferred because if, God forbid, that bomb explodes, the damage could kill everyone within range!” Heaving a breath, she lifted a hand to her head. “So no, Coran, I am not okay. How can I _possibly_ be okay right now?” 

Coran’s lips pursed beneath his mustache. “I suppose you’re right,” he amended. “I think we’re all rather shaken up at the moment. Everyone’s holding their breath to see what will happen.” 

“So am I, Coran,” Allura murmured. “So am I.” 

He left to go tend to other matters, leaving Allura to her own devices. She studied the unfurled blueprints, eyes roaming for what she prayed she wouldn’t find. Let her hunch be wrong. Please, _please,_ let her be wrong. 

Then she found it, right below the location of OR 3. 

Heavy as a rock, her heart dropped, fear flooding her through and through. “Oh, no.”

* * *

**Lance**

“How’s it going in here?” Shiro stood a distance from Lance’s operating table, watching over his progress. Lance didn’t look up. 

“He still has some internal bleeding and I haven’t even _gotten_ to his spleen yet, but it’s going. Not fast, but going.” 

He had no idea what expression Shiro wore, but his tone gave him enough of a clue. “Are you able to go any faster?”

“Kind of hard to do that with only one surgeon and one scrub nurse, no?” Shiro said nothing, and Lance chuckled. “Jeez, tough crowd.” 

“Well, you know, there’s a bomb in the next room, so forgive me if I’m not in much of a laughing mood at the moment.” 

Lance shrugged. “That’s probably fair.” 

He looked up then, and Shiro appeared more exhausted than Lance had probably ever seen him. The lower half of his face was covered by a surgical mask, but the pinch between his brows and the shadows beneath his eyelids were enough evidence. He shifted his weight, impatient, like his mind was elsewhere. Lance supposed that was reasonable. “Is there anything I can say that’ll convince you to evacuate?” Shiro asked. There wasn’t much energy behind it. He already knew it was a pointless endeavor. 

“Probably not, no. Though I’ll admit, my mom usually offers me snacks when she wants me to do something, so feel free to try that. I could really go for a Twinkie right about now. Acxa? You in the mood for a Twinkie?” 

Shiro was unamused. “You realize this is a dangerous situation, right? Lives are in danger.” 

“Lives are always in danger here. The only difference is that now the danger is to us instead of them.” He nodded his head towards the body on the table. 

That made Shiro stop. He looked prepared to argue, but bit it back and spared an amused smirk. “Maybe we should try finding a safer profession.” 

“Maybe,” Lance agreed. 

Shiro went to leave. At the door, he stopped to add, “I know you’re not one to rush a surgery, but hurry, okay? That’s all I ask.” 

“Aye aye, captain.” Then Lance remembered something. “Hey, how is the girl with the bomb?” 

Shiro turned, abruptly stiff. “What?” 

Lance took a clamp from Acxa, eyes back on his task. “You know, the paramedic with her hand on the bomb? How is she doing?” 

Shiro hesitated, and Lance heard his sharp intake of breath from where he was. “Just…Just hurry up, okay?” And with that, he left.

* * *

**Keith**

“How did it go? Is he evacuating?” 

Shiro shook his head and closed the door behind him. “He’s not leaving.” 

Keith cursed. “He’s so stubborn.” 

“Says the dude with his hand in another man’s chest.” 

“…Touché.” 

The corner of Shiro’s lip turned up, but it was a flicker. “He’s making good progress, though, so I’d give it a few hours before he can evacuate.” 

Keith nodded. “You didn’t tell him…” 

“That you’re the one with the bomb now? No. I didn’t want to freak him out even more.”

Keith let out a breath. “Good. I don’t want him knowing until after all this is over.” 

“ _’Until all this is over’_ being you either live or die?” 

“Pretty much, yeah.” 

Shaking his head, Shiro turned to Pidge. “Speaking of dying—Pidge, you need to go.” 

Pidge’s hands tightened on the ambu bag. She stubbornly stood her ground. “I already told you I’m not leaving.” 

“And I’m not kidding. Besides, there’s nothing more for you to do anyway. We’ve got it covered.” Pidge didn’t move. _“Pidge._ This is not another cool surgery. Any minute now, this bomb can go off and kill everyone in this room.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, that’s a load of bull. What, so you guys all get to be in here but I—” 

“Matt is my _best friend,”_ Shiro snapped. “I can’t even think, knowing I’m putting my best friend’s sister in mortal danger. Now I mean it. _Please._ Go.” 

Pidge glared, but Shiro didn’t back down. Finally she looked up at Keith, asking a million questions without voicing a single word. And Keith almost begged her to stay. He needed Pidge with him. He needed her to be the only lighthearted presence in the room. Shiro was too panicked and Thace was too cold, but Pidge could always be counted on to crack jokes and lighten the atmosphere when things got bad. Like things were normal. Like Keith’s life didn’t depend on shitty ammunition that could suddenly decide to explode at any second. 

But Shiro was right. So, against his own desires, Keith held his tongue and nodded, trying for sincerity. “Go,” he said. “We’ll be fine.” But it had an uncertain lilt at the end. 

Pidge’s eyes stayed locked on Keith’s for a moment longer before she gave in. She nodded and passed the ambu bag into Shiro’s waiting hands. 

When she finally disappeared down the hall, freed from the blast zone, Keith let out a breath. He dragged in another and sniffled. “So,” he said, staring up at the ceiling as he calmed his nerves, willing himself not to cry. “You have a plan, right?” He swallowed thickly, looking Thace in the eye. “You have a way to get me out of this, right?” 

Thace met his eyes, mouth pressed into a firm line. He didn’t say anything, but his silence was answer enough. 

And whatever hope Keith still held at that point—the hope that told him he would make it to tomorrow—swirled down the drain.

* * *

**Lance**

Pidge entered the operating room, already scrubbed in with a mask on her face. Lance looked up. “Don’t know if you’re aware, but this room has been evacuated, Dr. Gunderson.” 

“And yet somehow you’re still here,” she said. She pulled on some gloves and came around the operating table. 

“I have to be here. You don’t.” 

“Yes, actually, I do.” 

Lance’s eyes narrowed. Was she trying to get herself killed? It was bad enough knowing Keith and Shiro were both in the bomb room; he couldn’t have Pidge in danger too. “Pidge, I’m not kidding.” 

_“Lance,”_ she snapped, adamant. They had a silent staring contest, each daring the other to make a move. When Pidge didn’t budge, Lance conceded. 

“Fine, whatever. Stay. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

For once, Pidge didn’t even rub it in that she got her way. She moved closer to get a better look at what he was working on. “Besides,” she said, “you could probably use some company.” She looked down at the patient. “How’s he doing?” 

Lance shrugged. “Kid’s tough. He’s hanging in there. But what about that paramedic, Olia? Everything good on that end?” 

Pidge bit her lip, but otherwise kept her expression blank. “Oh, uh, she’s hanging in there too.” 

“Man, this whole day is like an action movie, huh?” 

“More like a horror movie,” Pidge muttered. 

“True. I guess the whole _“We could die any minute in a fiery explosion”_ part is kind of scary. It’s a day to be scared.” 

“It sure is.”

* * *

**Keith**

Thace had gone to talk to Allura outside, leaving Keith and Shiro alone. By now, Keith had had enough of silence. He wanted to hear something other than the beeping monitors or the puffs of the ventilator. 

“Is this the weirdest thing that’s ever happened in your OR?” he asked. It was mostly to fill up the void of silence, but part of him was genuinely curious. “Weirder than that time you found a lion tooth embedded in a guy’s leg?” 

Shiro chuckled to himself. “By far. In fact, if we survive this, I think today might be my new go-to conversation topic whenever people ask about my job.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

Keith found himself pleased to hear that. “Good, because I’m very competitive.” 

Shiro gave a tilted smile. “All of the best surgeons are.” 

Keith was about to say more, but Thace cracked open the door. “Shirogane? We need you over here for a minute.” 

At the sight of Thace, Keith would have gasped if he wasn’t busy staying deathly still. Because for the first time since Keith had met him, Thace’s composure cracked. Through the cracks peeked concern, frustration, _fear._ He looked genuinely _afraid_ for once, and Keith guessed Shiro could sense it too. He went over immediately, passing the ambu bag to the bomb squad man who took over. 

Thace spoke so quietly Keith couldn’t make it out, but the way Shiro’s eyes widened meant it couldn’t have been good news. Thace kept his gaze trained on Keith as he whispered, like he was studying him, sizing him up. Keith would have shivered if he could. 

Thace and Shiro kept talking for the next few minutes, speaking in hushed tones. What they were discussing, Keith had no idea. But the way Shiro kept looking back at him with the same expression he used with terminal patients sent a chill down his spine. 

“Stop whispering!” he barked suddenly. They looked at him, surprised. But they stopped whispering, which he considered his first—and probably only—win of the day. “I’m not a patient.” 

“What?” 

“You’re looking at me the same way we look at patients. Like I’m going to freak out any minute. I’m fine. I’m not going to freak out. Just tell it to me straight.” Had he been in literally any other situation, Keith would have made a gay joke out of that. 

Shiro clenched his jaw, then nodded at Thace. “Okay. Tell him what you told me.” 

Thace sighed. “I just got back from talking with the chief. She told me you all use general anesthesia for surgeries.” 

“Yeah, so?” 

“That involves a steady flow of oxygen through the room, which we’ve already turned off.” Keith sensed a _but_ was coming. “But,” Thace said, “it appears the main oxygen line runs right underneath this room.” 

“Okay.” 

Thace’s mouth went taut. 

“Not okay?” Keith looked back between Shiro and Thace, feeling like his limbs were made of rubber. “Well? Look, I’m going to need one of you to tell me _exactly_ what that means. Because I think I already know what it means, but I tend to be a glass half empty kind of person, so I don’t trust my own judgement. And if it does mean what I think it means, then that means the whole hospital could blow up.” A beat. His eyebrows crept up expectantly, _begging_ one of them to call him wrong. “And that’s just crazy, right?”

He waited. He waited for one of them to tell him he was wrong. To call him stupid and emo and inform him that the problem they faced was far more minor than that. That things weren’t truly as horrific and hopeless as they seemed. _Please, tell me I’m wrong._

It never came. 

Keith’s stomach rolled and bile rose in his throat. He didn’t know when he’d learned how to interpret Thace’s facial expressions, but now he wished he hadn’t. Because all he gathered from one look at Thace was that as of now, the lives of each and every person in the building rested in Keith’s numb fingers.

* * *

**Hunk**

“I feel like colors are brighter. Are colors brighter all of a sudden? And I smell burritos. Or maybe it’s blueberries. My head hurts, is that normal? I don’t think that’s normal.” 

“It’s the adrenaline, Hunk,” said Matt. “Just calm down.” 

Hunk, Shay, and Matt had spent the past hour in the resident’s lounge with no inclination to leave anytime soon. Not when their friends were in mortal danger and they were stuck on the bench, sitting around and waiting for something to happen. Shay and Matt sat on the couch, watching as Hunk paced back and forth in front of them. 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s good advice. Except, you know, the fact that Keith and Shiro and Lance’s chances of survival are low, which is…not great. And, you know, I read about bombs once? Apparently the bomb squad people call it ‘Red Mist’. That’s what they call it when you blow up. When you explode into little pieces and nothing’s left except blood and dust and little pieces of flesh and—and who knows what could happen? Keith and Shiro, they’re right next to it. When that bomb goes off, there won’t even be anything left of them which is scary because I don’t even remember the last things I said to them although it’s not like they’ll care because they’ll be dead and—” 

Matt banged his fist into the couch cushion beside him. “Knock it off, Hunk, you’re freaking me out!” 

Hunk closed his mouth, holding back the torrent that threatened to escape. He fell into a chair. “I know, I know, I’m sorry. It’s just—” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I hate feeling powerless. Like, what can we do if that bomb decides to explode? Nothing, that’s what. All we can do is sit here and wait and hope our friends don’t die.” 

Shay pulled her legs up and tucked them under her. “Have they given you guys any updates yet? I haven’t heard anything new after one of the interns told me what Keith did.”

Matt exhaled deeply. He looked exhausted, but that could be expected when one’s best friend was in the middle of the second near-death experience of his life. Building a robot arm wouldn’t do anything to help this time. Nothing could put Shiro’s disintegrated body back together. Hunk wanted to go over there and hug him, but decided against it. Matt wasn’t much of a hugger when he was upset like this. 

“Nothing yet,” Matt said. “Just that they found Olia and now Nurse Romelle is taking care of her. And I don’t even _know_ where Pidge is. For all we know she could be right with them, or, who knows? Maybe there’s an ax murderer on the loose too and he got her because today is just the _perfect_ day for disasters.” He closed his eyes, pressing his head against the back of the couch. “It’s like the apocalypse.” 

Shay frowned. “It does kind of seem that way, doesn’t it?” 

Hunk sighed. “Shit, what am I going to tell Lance’s family? All his brothers and sisters and nieces and nephews and his _mom…_ They’re going to be devastated if he dies. _I’m_ going to be devastated if he dies!” He dropped his head into his hands. “This sucks.” 

“Shiro is smart,” Matt said. “I know if that thing looks like it’s going to blow, he’ll be smart and get the hell out of there. I mean, he has to, right?” 

“What about Keith, though?” Shay added. “He’s holding the bomb. If it goes and he’s right next to it…”

“Then he’s dead,” Hunk said miserably. He picked his head up. “What do we do, then? I mean, do we—do we call his family or something?” 

“We _are_ Keith’s family,” Matt said. “Besides Shiro, he’s got nobody but us. This hospital. Shiro, Pidge, Lance, and any one of them could die just as well.” His voice was raw, defeated. He curled up, burying his face into the gray fabric covering his knees and wrapping his arms around his legs. 

Shay took a deep breath and straightened up. “No. You know what? We’re not doing this. We’re not going to just sit here and wait for bad news. They’re going to be fine, okay? Lance, Shiro, Keith, they’re…They’re going to be fine, okay?” She swallowed thickly. “They’re going to be fine.” 

Nodding slowly, Hunk breathed in deeply, doing this a few times. His anxiety didn’t lessen, but at least it didn’t worsen either. He felt the same way he had in medical school before he’d gotten his squeamishness under control—like any minute his anxiety would boil over and he’d start puking. But he couldn’t afford to lose it now. Not now, when the hospital was falling apart at the seams. 

“That’s it. I—I have to go,” he said, standing up. “If I keep thinking about dismembered bodies and losing all my friends I’m not going to be able to function. I’m going to check with Allura to see if she has any news.” 

And he left the room, ignoring Matt’s quiet voice whispering, “What am I going to tell our parents if Pidge dies?” _Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it._

Allura’s office down the hallway was, for the first time that day, surprisingly not swarmed with people demanding answers. Thank goodness. The door was open, and Hunk spotted Allura at her desk, her head propped up in her hands. She looked exhausted. 

Hunk knocked on the open door. “Hey, Chief? Do you have any updates for us? Everyone is kind of going out of their minds out here.” 

Allura didn’t look up. “I don’t have anything new to tell you,” she said, her voice a tired monotone. It was unnerving seeing her this down. Allura always tried so hard to be in control at all times, to be a pillar of strength in every situation. Taking on the burden of running an entire hospital had taken its toll on her, but not once had she shown it. This was a new development. 

“Oh, okay. Thanks anyway.” Optimism lessened, Hunk turned to leave her alone. Then he thought better of it and lingered in the doorway, studying Allura. The circles under her eyes, the tension in her muscles. “Hey, are you doing okay?” 

Allura snorted weakly. “Do I look okay?” 

“Uh, not really, no.” 

“Then there you go.” She sighed, a tired, heavy sound. 

Hunk stood there in the doorway, watching her. His bottom lip caught between his teeth. Then he made a silent decision: If nothing else, he was going to help where he could. There was nothing he could do to keep his friends safe, but at the very least he could help out another friend who felt just as low as he did, if not lower. 

“Come on,” he told her, stepping into the room. “We’re getting you out of your office for a while.” 

Only then did Allura pick her head up, arm slipping. “What? No, I have to stay in case I’m needed—” 

“You’ve been stressed out all day. Take a break. You look like you could use it.” He went to her desk and curled his hand under her arm, pulling her gently up from her chair. 

Allura’s lips pursed while her mind worked, running through the options. Finally, she gave a small nod. “Okay.” 

Hunk grinned. “All right. Now, come on. There’s somewhere special I want to take you.”

* * *

**Hunk**

“I’ll admit it,” Allura said. “This does help.” She smiled and waved at one of the babies who wobbled its little fist in the air. 

They stood in front of a wall of glass, side by side overlooking the hospital’s nursery, which housed dozens of newborns, tiny babies with fluffy hair and pink and blue blankets and teeny grasping fingers. Hands down, it was Hunk’s favorite place in the entire hospital. 

“Told you. This is where I always come whenever I need a pick-me-up. Something about seeing all the little munchkins just makes everything better. One time I brought Keith here after he’d lost four patients back-to-back? It was actually kinda cute watching him make faces at the babies. And Lance comes here with me all the time whenever he’s feeling down. It’s like free therapy.” 

Allura hummed. “I can see why. It’s so calming here.” 

“Yeah, you looked like you could use some de-stressing. Especially after carrying all the problems of today on your shoulders for so long.”

Allura’s eyes dimmed. “Well, it _is_ on my shoulders, isn’t it? I am responsible for this hospital and everyone in it.” 

“I mean, sure, but there are some things even you can’t control,” Hunk said. He stuck his tongue out at a baby girl who babbled away in her bed. 

“I can certainly try. I can’t sit around worrying all day and doing nothing while my employees—while my _friends_ are upstairs risking their lives.” 

Hunk frowned. “Allura, I know you’re worried about them. We all are. But you gotta have faith, okay? Everything will work out, I know it. So focus on the good for now—like these babies here—instead of worrying yourself to death over something you have no control over.” 

Allura nodded, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “I suppose you’re right.” She smiled softly. “Thank you, Hunk.” 

Hunk patted her on the shoulder. “No problem, Chief. Just think happy thoughts. Everything will be okay.”

* * *

**Keith**

“We’re screwed.” 

Back in the bomb room, Keith more than ever wished he’d just stayed in bed that day like he’d been planning. Or, better yet, he wished he’d never had that stupid foreboding dying feeling at all. It was probably that feeling that jinxed the entire day and made it its personal mission to have every single thing go as hopelessly wrong as possible. 

“I mean, that’s it, right?” Keith continued. “We’re screwed.” Before, it was just Keith who was in danger. Shiro, Thace, everyone could have easily escaped once things got hairy. Keith had made peace with the fact that if nothing else, at least he and the patient would be the only casualties. Now, though? Now, it wasn’t just him. It was every patient, every doctor, every single person in the whole hospital who was at risk now. 

“Not necessarily,” Thace reassured him, holding a hand out to calm Keith before the panic set in. Probably too late for that, but Keith appreciated the effort. “All it means is that we have to move.” 

“Move?” 

“Yes. And fast, because I don’t want to spend another second in this room.” He looked at Shiro. “How smoothly do these gurneys move?” 

Keith closed his eyes, trying to wrap his head around it. “Wait a second, wait a second. I can’t wiggle my _pinkie_ because it could shift the ammo, and you want to roll out the entire gurney?” 

“It’s our safest option.” 

Keith looked at Shiro, willing him to say something comforting because Thace was doing absolutely nothing to quell Keith’s fear. If anything, his seriousness just seemed to be making it worse. It was like he expected everything to go wrong but had already made peace with it. It was creepy. 

Shiro nodded with Thace. “All right, so we move. No problem. We can handle this, right, Keith?” 

Keith nodded slowly, swallowing his anxiety. “Yeah. Yeah, we can handle this.” 

“Good. See? We’re handling this.”

* * *

**Lance**

“How much do you wanna bet Keith is going to do something stupid? Like jump in front of the blast or chuck the bomb out the window.” Lance snorted. “When this is all over, the first thing I’m going to do is track him down and yell at him properly for being so reckless.” 

“Aren’t you the one who chose to operate on a patient just a few rooms away from an OR with a bomb in it?” Pidge asked. 

That got him. “Um...” He shook his head. “Whatever. It was still stupid of him to choose to stay when he didn’t have to. I mean, who does that? Who willingly puts himself in danger like that?” 

“Keith, apparently.” 

Lance shook his head, exasperated. “I can’t wait until we get out of this so I can give him a piece of my mind and— Can I get a little more suction there?” Acxa adjusted accordingly. 

“You know,” Pidge commented, “you keep ranting about how this is all Keith’s fault for putting himself in danger. You sure you’re not just hiding something deeper than that?” 

Lance clicked his tongue. “What are you, my therapist?” 

“I just call ‘em like I see ‘em.” 

“Well don’t. Believe me, I’m just pissed he’s in there while I’m out here. Perfectly understandable for someone in my situation.” 

“How’s that?” 

Lance shrugged. “You know. He’s in there right next to danger while I’m stuck here with no idea what’s happening.” 

“And you’re upset that you can’t protect him?” 

Lance snorted. “I am _not_ upset. Guilty? Sure. But I’m not _upset,_ no way.” 

That gave Pidge pause. “Guilty? What do you have to feel guilty about? You didn’t do anything.” 

Lance shook his head. “Well, _duh._ Exactly. I didn’t _do_ anything. I was the one who knew it was a bomb in the first place, yet I didn’t do anything to help in the end. I let Keith stay there with that thing just ticking away and let them kick me out without even trying to put up a real fight. Now he’s there and I’m here, and there’s nothing I can do to help him.” The last part was quieter, hopeless as the reality of the situation sank in. 

Pidge’s head tilted to the side, sympathetic. “That’s not your fault, Lance. I think we can all gather by now that there’s no beating Keith’s stubbornness.” 

“Yeah, whatever,” Lance muttered. But that tightness in his chest didn’t subside. “Hey, you wanna know the worst part?” He didn’t wait for a response. “I was _jealous_ of him. When Keith got to be the one to stay in the room instead of me, under it all I was jealous of him. Jealous that he got to be the hero, that he got to be around all the action and I didn’t. Can you believe how fucked up that is? Keith could die any second, and I was jealous. Kind of shitty, huh?”

“It could be worse,” Pidge amended. “I ignored him when he told me he felt like he might die today, and then I said if he died I’d owe him fifty dollars and kicked him out of his bed.”

Somehow, Lance found himself snickering. “Well that was a bad idea,” he snorted, and Pidge laughed right along with him. 

“Yeah, in hindsight it kind of was.” 

“Man, this whole day is so screwed up, isn’t it? It’s like the end of the world or something.” Lance’s smile dimmed. “And Keith is right there in the thick of it all while everyone else gets to go on with their lives, all bright and dandy.” 

“You’re acting like we and Shiro are sitting on the sidelines or something,” Pidge said. “Shiro’s in the bomb room too. And we’re close enough to the blast zone we’re just as screwed as they are if it explodes.” 

Lance chewed his cheek. She did have a point. “Well…yeah, but—” He struggled to find the words. _“Mierda,_ I don’t know, it’s _Keith._ He’s a hothead. Compared to Shiro, Keith is like a grenade. He’s bound to do something like sacrifice himself if it meant saving everyone else. Shiro at least I can trust to be smart when things get hot.”

Pidge’s eyes crinkled, and Lance just _knew_ she was smiling under her mask. “Something tells me someone here cares more for Keith than he’s willing to let on.” 

Lance scoffed. “Yeah, right. I’m just pissed he got to be the hero. _Again._ Honestly, he acts like he’s some immortal god or whatever, like he can’t get hurt. It’s so—so stupid.” He dropped a scalpel onto the tray, the _clang_ resounding around the room. “I mean, it’s not like he’s extendable, which he apparently thinks he is because he’s a moron.” 

His eyes narrowed as he rambled, not really paying attention to what he was saying. “What’s going to happen if he dies? Sure, he probably won’t care because he’ll be a corpse at the time, but what about Shiro? What about you? What about _me?_ It’s like he doesn’t even care that him dying will hurt all of us.” 

“So you’re saying you’re worried about losing him.” 

Lance rolled his eyes. _“No,_ I’m worried about not getting the opportunity to tell him what a selfish ass he’s being. That’s such a Keith thing to do, too—getting all the glory while I’m stuck here worrying myself to death so much I put my own life in danger just to get my mind off the fact that any second I could lose him and—” 

He stopped. Looked up for the first time in forever when he realized what he’d been implying. As expected, Pidge had the most shit-eating look on her face, and Lance would have stuck his tongue out at her if he didn’t have a mask on. “Shut up.” 

“I didn’t say anything.” 

“You didn’t need to. But let me make this clear: I do _not_ like Keith.” 

“I never said you did.” 

“I mean, so what if he’s super cool and the best surgeon I’ve ever seen? That just makes him more insufferable. Not to mention it’s not going to matter if he blows up and there’s nothing left of him and I don’t even get to say _goodbye,_ a-and…” He forced down the lump rising in his throat. “I don’t like Keith, okay? So just—just make yourself useful and hand me those microscissors, will you?” 

A moment passed. Pidge still hadn’t replied, and Lance wondered if she’d even heard him. “Pidge?” Lance looked up. “Hey, you good?” 

Pidge was fixed on something outside, her amber eyes trained on the window. She didn’t seem to have heard anything he said. “I, uh—I’m gonna—” She began walking towards the door, not even bothering with an explanation. She ripped off her surgical gown and mask, tossing them carelessly to the floor as she walked. She pushed through the door without another word. 

Lance looked to Acxa, stumped. “Did I just miss something?” Acxa shrugged and handed him the microscissors.

* * *

**Keith**

In the hallway, progress was slow. For once, though, Keith had no desire to make things go any faster. They moved inch by inch, wheeling the gurney across the hall to a room far enough away from the oxygen line that they would be in the clear. At least, the rest of the hospital would be. There was still the matter of not blowing up, which seemed to get more and more nerve-wracking with each step Keith took. 

“Walk me through the plan one more time,” he said, mostly just so he’d have something to focus on. Something other than the feeling of every little bump of the gurney which made the bomb brush against his fingertips again and again. 

Thace was on his right, pushing the gurney along. His voice was quiet, just above a whisper. “The device is shaped like a rocket—about eight inches long. Shirogane’s team is already in place in the OR with my team. When I tell you, you’re going to take the hand that’s inside Mr. Ranveig and carefully wrap it around the device—” 

“And pull it out,” Keith finished for him. 

_“Level,”_ Thace stressed. “Pull it out while keeping it level.” 

Keith breathed in deeply, willing his nerves to relax. They kept walking. “You know, I don’t like you very much.” Might as well get that out of the way while they had time for small talk. 

“Good. I don’t like you either,” Thace replied. Fair enough. 

That was when they heard a door shut somewhere behind them, and Pidge worked her way into Keith’s line of sight. “What are you doing?” she demanded, looking back and forth between Keith and the place where his hand disappeared inside Mr. Ranveig. 

“Stop!” Thace hissed. The gurney stopped moving. “Stop right where you are, Gunderson.” 

Pidge obeyed, but didn’t relent. “What the hell are you doing?” 

“We’re moving away from the oxygen line under the room,” Keith told her, shrugging with one shoulder. “You know, in case we blow up.” 

“Dr. Shirogane told you to leave,” Thace told Pidge. If he hadn’t been tense before, he was now. 

“Where is he?” 

“He’s prepping the OR,” said Keith. 

“Then he’ll never know, will he?” Pidge propped her hands on her hips, immovable. 

Thace huffed a frustrated breath. “Fine,” he snapped. “But you stay right over there. Do not move.” He turned back to Keith. “We’re going to start moving again. You ready?” At Keith’s answering nod, they kept going, same turtle pace as before. 

“Tell me something,” Keith told Pidge. 

“What?” 

“Pidge, my hand is on a bomb. I’m freakin’ out. And more importantly, I _really_ have to pee. Tell me anything.” 

“Um, okay.” Pidge thought for a while, shifting from side to side. “So, apparently Lance likes you.” Keith’s eyes widened. “I was talking to him earlier. He never said it exactly, but I could tell.” 

“Lance likes me,” Keith repeated, tasting the words on his tongue. He’d been waiting to hear that very sentence for so long, yet the timing couldn’t have been more terrible. Had Keith been anywhere else, he would have laughed, he would have danced, he would have been ecstatic. But now, all it did was make his heart ache. So long he’d been crushing on Lance, but the moment he finally learns his feelings are reciprocated is five minutes before he could explode into a million pieces. What a rip-off. 

“Yup. Lance likes you.” Pidge caught Thace staring. “Mind your own business,” she said. He made a face, but didn’t comment. Pidge turned back to Keith. “So? What do you think about that?” 

“I like him too,” Keith said without hesitation. 

“Good.” 

“Yeah.” 

Pidge waited. “So...are you going to tell him, then?” 

Keith rolled his eyes. “Hand on a bomb, Pidge? No point in telling him I like him back if I’m most likely going to die anyways.” 

“Excellent point.” Keith cracked a smile. “If it helps, though,” Pidge added, “I would really personally appreciate it if you tried not to die. I don’t want to end up owing you fifty bucks. That’s a recipe for a ghost, right there. I don’t want to wake up tomorrow morning with my chairs all stacked on the table because you didn’t feel like picking up the slack and surviving.” 

Keith chuckled, a nervous sound. “Pretty sure I don’t have much control over that, but I’ll try my best.” 

The gurney was getting farther away from where Pidge’s feet were planted. They were just a little ways off from turning the corner where she wouldn’t be able to see them anymore. “You just _had_ to say you were going to die today,” she sighed. 

Keith shrugged again. “Told you.”

* * *

**Lance**

“There you are,” Lance said when Pidge reentered the room. She hadn’t scrubbed in this time, merely staying a distance away from the door like she was being magnetically attracted towards something outside. “What happened to you?” 

“Nothing,” Pidge said. Her throat sounded tight. 

Lance eyed her suspiciously, but didn’t ask for more explanation. Part of him didn’t want to hear any more bad news she had for him. “Alright, fair enough. I’m almost done working on this kid, so I just need to close him up and we’ll be out of here soon.” Pidge didn’t reply. “How’s everything going over there?” 

Pidge snapped out of whatever trance she was in. “Huh?” 

“How is the girl with the bomb?” Lance asked, clearer this time. “She still kicking?” _Dios,_ what had Pidge so distracted? 

Pidge looked conflicted, which made Lance uneasy. There was something worryingly familiar about the look in her eyes, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. She shifted in place, licking her lips. Fidgety. “It’s… They’re…” 

Lance studied her warily. Something was wrong, he could feel it. There was something she wasn’t telling him. “Pidge?” 

A shiver ran down Lance’s spine. He suddenly realized what Pidge’s discomfort reminded him of. 

It reminded him of himself every time he had to tell a family their loved one hadn’t made it through surgery. Going over different ways to break it to them in his head—whether to let them down easy or rip it off like a band aid. Getting that jittery feeling in his muscles that propelled him to say the dreaded words as much as he wanted to keep them locked up forever, never to escape so he wouldn’t have to make someone feel like their entire world had been ripped away from them. 

That feeling. 

Finally, when Lance was sure he was going to burst from the suspense, Pidge took a deep breath. 

“It’s Keith.” 

Lance jolted like he’d been shocked, a weight sinking from somewhere in his chest all the way to the bottom and knocking the breath out of him. A clamp slipped from his hand, clattering noisily on the floor. “What did you just say?” 

Hopeless certainty leaked into Pidge’s tone when she said, voice frustratingly even, “The person with the bomb is Keith.” 

And Lance swore he felt his heart stop.

* * *

**Keith**

With little jostling and several heart attacks, they had finally gotten situated in the new operating room, far away from the main oxygen lines. Shiro, along with several nurses and bomb squad men, were all ready to get started on removing the bomb. Keith, however, was five seconds away from dry heaving. 

Shiro looked eager to proceed, which Keith found he couldn’t blame him for. He too would have been just as eager to get this bomb as far away from himself as possible if the only way to do that wasn’t by pulling it out himself. 

“We’re all ready to go,” Shiro told Thace, who nodded in confirmation. 

“The containment unit is all set up down the hallway with one of my guys already in place to receive it, so we’re good to proceed on our end. Keith? You ready?” 

Keith shuddered out a breath. “I think so?” 

Shiro placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, grounding him. “Okay. When I extend the wound, the bleeding is going to intensify. So we’re going to need to be quick if we’re going to save Mr. Ranveig.” 

“But remember to keep it level,” Thace reminded him. “Steady. No jerky movements. We need to be quick and smooth about this.” 

Keith nodded, a tense, shaky motion. “Right. Quick and smooth.” 

“Don’t worry. You can do this,” Shiro said, squeezing his shoulder. “You ready?” 

Wetness pricked at Keith’s eyes, but he held it back. He inhaled shakily. “Do I have a choice?” 

Shiro shrugged. “You have to be ready.” 

Keith nodded. “Okay, then I guess—I guess I’m ready.” 

He watched as Shiro cut into the wound with the scalpel, making the hole wider. He was right about the bleeding picking up. “Okay,” he said when he was finished. “We’re good here,” he told Thace. “He can start pulling out the bomb now.” 

“All right, Keith,” said Thace. “Now I need you to slowly wrap your hand around the nose cone.” 

Keith didn’t hear him. All he could hear was his own pulse pounding in his eardrums, drowning out everything else. His hand was numb, and his legs shook so much it was a miracle he didn’t collapse. If only the others could see him now—the great Dr. Kogane, the guy who was always so in control of himself, who never cracked under pressure—reduced to a trembling mess. It was almost comical how much of a turnaround this was for him. He would have been embarrassed if he wasn’t already so terrified. 

_“Keith,”_ Thace said again, louder this time, bringing Keith back to the present. 

With shaky fingers, Keith pulled down his mask. “Make sure—make sure Lance is okay.” 

Thace’s eyes widened as he caught on. “Keith—” 

“Make sure he doesn’t do that thing where he covers up how sad he is. Make sure he knows I liked him back and that none of this is his fault because I know he’ll find some way to blame himself even though he shouldn’t.” 

Thace shook his head. “Keith, you need to calm down.” 

Keith’s bottom lip trembled. He turned to his brother, eyes shining. “And Shiro, you need to make sure you move on. You can’t—you can’t do what I did. You can’t shut everyone out and blame yourself. You have to get over this and keep going even after I’m gone.” Shiro opened his mouth to protest, but Keith continued. “And Pidge too, make sure she’s okay. And Hunk and Allura and Matt and—” 

“Keith,” Shiro said abruptly. “You’re shaking. I need you to calm down. No one is dying today.” 

But Keith shook his head rapidly. “No, no, this is crazy. This is crazy. Shiro, you—you need to leave. You need to get out of here. All of you, just get out of here.” His throat tightened with hysteria, but he was powerless to stop it from taking over. 

“Keith, I want you to look at me,” Thace said. Keith didn’t take his frightened eyes off Shiro. _“Keith._ Look at me.” Breath hitching, Keith tore his eyes away, focusing his blurry vision on Thace’s face, directly across the table. “Good. Now I know this is bad. I know you’re scared.” 

His words echoed in Keith’s head like they were coming from several speakers at once. Thace continued, voice steady. “I know you hate me and I’m just this ass who’s been yelling at you all day. So I need you to pretend I’m someone else. Someone you like. Because I need you to listen to me, and I need you to do exactly what I say.” 

_Someone he liked._

Keith looked down at his hand, closed his eyes, then looked back up again. Slowly, Thace’s face shifted. His flak jacket and armor became aqua blue scrubs. His dark eyes became dazzling blue ones. His face became one Keith knew oh-so well; the only one he wanted to see right now. 

And suddenly, Keith wasn’t there anymore. The patient, Shiro’s warm body beside him, the beeping monitors, it all faded away until Keith stood alone, hand outstretched yet grasping nothing. 

Lance smiled across from him, and a sense of comfort instantly washed over Keith, warming him down to his toes. “Hi,” he said, eyes gentle and lips perfectly crooked. 

“I’m scared,” Keith told him. His entire chest felt tight, similar to when he was a teenager and would wear his binder for too long until every intake of breath ached. Like any second his air would run out and he’d be left gasping, struggling to pull in even the smallest breath. Like he was suffocating where he stood. 

“I know,” Lance said. “But you can do this, Keith. Everything is going to be okay.” He didn’t lose his smile, and Keith’s erratic breathing evened out just at the sight of it. “Just breathe, okay?” 

Keith took a deep breath, then another. 

“If anyone can do this, it’s you,” Lance continued. “I believe in you. You can do this.” 

Another deep breath. Keith let it out slowly, the tightness in his chest slowly loosening. “Okay.” 

“Okay.” 

Gradually, Lance began to shift back into Thace. Their true surroundings faded back into sight, and Keith came back to reality. The bomb was cold against his hand. 

“Okay,” Keith said. “I can do this. I can do this.” 

“Gently,” Thace reminded him quietly. 

And slowly, Keith reached until his fingertips wrapped around cold metal. Breathing steadily, he began moving, keeping it as level as he possibly could. The entire room held its breath. Keith closed his eyes. 

_You can do this._

When he opened them again, he saw himself placing the bomb into Thace’s waiting hands. Nobody moved. Nobody breathed. Slowly, Keith’s fingers let go one by one until he no longer held the bomb, separating it from himself for the first time in what felt like forever. Trembling, he pulled his hand away. A single tear fell from his eye as relief washed over him, covering him like a blanket. 

Thace exhaled once he alone held the bomb. “You did good,” he told Keith, his voice a whisper. 

Mind hazy, Keith barely registered Shiro’s gentle hand guiding him back from the table so he could get in and stop the bleeding, now that the patient was bomb-free. 

Keith watched numbly as Thace slowly left the room, keeping the bomb completely still in his steady hands. He disappeared into the hallway, and without entirely registering his actions anymore, Keith’s legs guided him away from the doctors to follow him. 

Limbs numb, Keith stepped into the hallway and watched as Thace moved towards another bomb squad man at the end of the hall set to receive and contain the device. 

Keith’s heartbeat finally began to settle in his chest. It was over. He did it. He survived. His foreboding precognition of death had been wrong, and—

 _BOOM!_

As sure as Thace was there, suddenly he was gone, leaving red emptiness in his place. 

Keith heard the deafening explosion before he felt it—red hot flames which blasted him backwards until he slammed into the ground, head cracking against the linoleum. Stars burst in his vision and he must have blacked out for a few seconds because when he looked up again, all he could see was red. 

The once empty white hallway had turned red, filled with heat and rage and fire. 

Red mist showered around him like bloody rain. His ears rang. Heat raged all around him, debris flaming as it floated to the ground. As pain pulsed in his skull, Keith didn’t fight it when his vision darkened around the edges and he shut his eyes against it all. 

With images of red permanently stained behind his eyelids, Keith blacked out.

* * *

When Keith opened his eyes again, he was somewhere else. 

He was lying on his back again, but the heat of the explosion was gone. The hard floor and broken glass had vanished and no longer dug into his skin. Something soft surrounded his body, and slowly Keith realized he was in a hospital bed. His head ached something terrible, so it took a while for him to comprehend his surroundings. 

There was a weight on his hand. It was surrounded by something warm and soft, and for a moment, panic surged through him at memories of his hand sinking into flesh and tissue. It subsided though, when he felt fingers wrapping around and holding tight onto his own in a grip that felt strangely comfortable. His own hand instinctively squeezed back, and he heard a relieved sigh from somewhere next to him. 

Slowly, Keith opened his eyes. It took a moment for the blurriness to clear, but the first thing he registered was that the red mist was gone, replaced with an unblemished white ceiling above him. He turned his head and was met with a familiar face staring intently at his own. It made his heart flutter and warmth soak into his skin. 

Lance smiled at him. “Hey.” 

“Hey,” Keith said, his voice barely more than a whisper. He looked down and caught their intertwined hands. Lance’s thumb ran lightly over his knuckles. 

Slowly, Keith became aware of just how much his body hurt. The back of his head felt tender, which explained the raging headache that made just thinking hurt. His limbs felt battered, and a glance at the bandages scattering his arms told him he must have accumulated burns as well from the blast. But he was alive. He was alive. 

Then he remembered someone who wasn’t alive, and it made his heart squeeze painfully. “Thace,” he said. “He died, right?” 

Lance’s smile faltered, and he nodded. “I’m sorry.” 

Keith’s throat tightened and he swallowed painfully. He may not have know Thace long, or even liked him much, but still. Thace had been a person. A person whose life had been taken from him in the blink of an eye. It hurt to know that he’d lost his life just feet away from the finish line. He didn’t deserve that kind of ending. 

“You’re an idiot, you know.” 

Keith looked up at Lance again. He couldn’t tell if he was serious or not, but his eyebrows had pulled together, a glimpse of what had been hours upon hours of worrying. 

“Yeah,” Keith said. “I know.” He sat up slowly, looking around the empty room. “Shiro?” A choked feeling rose in his throat as he realized he didn’t know whether that blast had reached the operating room or not. If Shiro had gotten hurt… 

“He’s okay,” Lance reassured him quickly, which made Keith relax. “He’s just updating the patient’s family. The guy survived the surgery, and thanks to you, he’s going to be okay. Everyone is okay.” 

Keith nodded, his heartbeat settling once again. “Good.” 

They sat in silence for a little while longer. Lance didn’t let go of Keith’s hand, and Keith found that he didn’t mind. He remembered his Lance illusion back when there had been a bomb in his hand. Thinking about it made heat crawl up his neck. 

_Lance likes you._ At the time, Keith hadn’t tried to dwell too much on Pidge’s words. Not as much as he’d wanted to. He hadn’t dared let himself hope that revelation would actually lead to anything since he’d been scheduled to blow up any minute, but now? Now, he didn’t know what to think. Had Pidge been telling the truth? Did Lance truly feel the same way, or had it been a lie she told him to ease his cluttered mind in a time of panic? And if it was real, what was he supposed to do about it now? 

“I’m sorry,” Lance said suddenly, pulling Keith from his roundabout thoughts. 

His eyebrows wrinkled. “For what?” 

“I kind of jinxed your whole day earlier, didn’t I?” He cracked a grin, and at once, the atmosphere settled into something more comfortable. 

Keith rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you kind of did. I can probably stand to forgive you, though. But I might have to yell at you later for operating in a room next to a _bomb.”_

“In all fairness, you stuck your hand in _with_ the bomb, which has gotta be, like, way more dangerous.” 

“Fine, then what do you say we call it even for now?” 

Lance let out a laugh. “Good idea.” Then he breathed out a long exhale, squeezing Keith’s hand with his own. “So. You almost died today.” 

Keith squeezed back. “Yup. I almost died today.” 

Lance stared at him a little longer as if he was memorizing his face. Then, in what had to be either a surge of courage or loss of sanity, he moved faster than Keith’s mind could follow and swept him into a kiss. Keith jolted in surprise at first, then allowed his eyes to flutter shut and kissed back just as fervently. 

All of the unspoken emotions, all of the worry, all of the excitement and terror of the day seemed to bleed into the kiss. Keith’s hand that wasn’t already caught in Lance’s grip snaked up around his neck, holding him in place. Lance’s breath ghosted against Keith’s face as they kissed, and Keith lost all track of time. 

When they finally did separate, Keith felt cold, like his blood had frozen in his veins. A smile played on his lips as he and Lance looked into each other’s eyes, panting. Lance got the goofiest grin on his face, which made Keith feel as though his veins had been injected with helium and he was now floating up into the stratosphere with no intention of ever coming back down. 

“I’m really glad you didn’t die today,” Lance said. 

And Keith just sighed, finding himself thinking the same thing. 

Still, though. If this had indeed been his last day on Earth—if Keith truly had only five minutes left to enjoy the little pleasures of life before it all went _kablam_ —he found that being here, kissing Lance? 

Not a bad way to spend it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *when Thace blew up* MMMM WATCHA SAY 
> 
> Thanks for reading, fellas!


End file.
